Otherworldly Flame
by Adelione
Summary: "You'd rather show me your soul than your scars." He was an imperial prince in an era of warring wisdom and magic, but she viewed him differently, like a mysterious man who doomed her TV in half. After all, he didn't belong to this world where magic was just a spice for fiction.
1. Unorthodox Encounter

**** (c) to original owner for cover photo.**

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 **A/N: As the plot bunny once told me, "Put Magi characters in the modern world." Anyway, enjoy~**

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 **I**

 **[** _Unorthodox Encounter_ **]**

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The alarm beeped. Once then _twice_.

Her hand was drowsy, crawling out from under the blanket and reaching out in all directions in search for the button to silence the noisy thing. _Ah, found it,_ she gave the clock a strong smack that it produced a strained scream, until it finally became quiet under her palm. She was never fond of mornings, she damned it. _Definitely_ not someone you'd like to meet before her daily caffeine intake.

Though she wasn't fully awake, she mechanically sat on her side of the bed and pushed out a low yawn from her lips.

See the woman. She was thin and fair as light, kind of like one of those unhealthy models afraid of food but not. Despite the image, a flowery tattoo crawled at the small of her shoulder then down to the side of her arm as if it were alive and growing prettily on her skin. It was yellow and bright, a color for happiness. But happiness didn't reflect in her eyes.

She stared quietly on the floor, her clothes from the previous night pooled around her feet. Heavy eyelids blinked a couple of times as she wiggled her toes on the soft furs of the carpet, the drowsiness slowly leaving. Then she picked up her shirt and caped it on her shoulders.

Sunlight poured through the window, scattering a golden glow into the room. Beyond the clear layer of glass, she turned her head to glimpse at the far lake, with her hand serving as shade from the brightness.

Little bits of buried memories returned to her — the fresh scent of the waters and its seemingly bottomless depth where her had body sunk was especially vivid in her mind. It was like being touched by a different world. The darkness and silence had embraced her as white bubbles had burst out of her mouth, and the water hushed her, it was salty. Like tears.

The sound of blanket shuffling behind her almost made her skin jump, snapping her out of her thoughts. It was followed by a womanly groan that resounded in the room, mumbling something like a complaint.

Low lidded eyes peeked at the voice, dark hair falling onto them. "You'll be late for work, but that's a sacrifice I'm willing to make. How about it?"

A woman slowly rose from interrupted sleep, head popping out of the sheets. With her hair gold to its ends but black to its roots, a hint of an old dye job. Then, she mumbled something inaudible again as she stretched her arms above her head.

"I didn't get the chance to ask, what happened to your hand?" She pointed at the tattooed woman's hand with a feline smile and a nose to sniff out little mysteries, there were small blotches of paint staining along the knuckle and a neatly wrapped band aid around the forefinger.

"Work."

"I see," the blonde vacated the bed. She dressed herself in her alcohol scented cocktail dress. "Hey —"

"Lock the door on your way out."

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She leaned against the counter, sipping her hot coffee as she watched the blonde shut the door without tossing her a look and goodbye. It was fine, she preferred endings that way. _No_ red strings attached to anyone. People tended to become just memories for her anyways.

When the last drop of caffeine melted on her tongue, she moved to the living room to watch the morning news. She sunk on the softness of the couch, turning the TV on with her eyes already rolling at the frivolous headlines about scandals of celebrities these days. The media loved petty gossips than actual news for the public eye and to think some people actually called it _entertainment_. She differed, the weather was more interesting.

" _Tonight, a lunar eclipse will occur. Good news for sky watchers…_ " said the reporter, followed by a commercial that became soft background sounds as she leaned her back into the puffy cushions, closing her eyes shut.

Sometimes, solitude was beautiful.

Though it would break her heart, she once entertained the idea of selling her home, which was previously her family's old vacation house. To move overseas as dusts and sooth only lived in it before. And for the reason of no longer seeing so many familiar faces and other faces, but when she thought it through again, she shut down the idea.

With the remaining income she had, she put all her money into redesigning the two-story home herself. She did the contemporary-styled sketches and some of the paint jobs. The structure was ancient itself, so ugly and crumbling on the inside, like a haunted house. So first, the few patches and holes were hid behind new abstract paintings and furniture.

The first floor was turned into a carpeted open living space, with the kitchen separated by a tall bookshelf, and was done in mix of dim and pinch of dark colors. Upstairs was styled with the same color scheme, with three bedrooms, each having individual bathrooms, on one side of the spacious hallway, and the small studio and storage room on the other. The house mostly consisted of glass walls, where at least one bird would fly onto it. That aside, she liked the wide view on sunset and her neighbors, which were trees. But today, with her current job, she would never afford the slightest luxury. Not that she didn't have the passion for her own livelihood, she was at least satisfied with the result of the house.

After all, living in a larger house wouldn't guarantee happiness — it was the company of a precious little thing on two legs.

The sound of the doorbell echoed through the walls until it reached her, she stood and went to open the door. She knew who it was and she was never wrong.

Looking down, Rico stood, the car behind him already driving away, and with the same toy duck he carried around since she bought it for him. He was almost never seen without it.

The boy smiled a toothy smile, a few teeth missing in the front exposed, as he hugged the knees of the woman, "Hello!" he exclaimed excitedly.

She ruffled his hair and returned her nephew's smile, "Good to see you too."

The tiny boy lifted up his toy for her to see, " _Nana_ , chicken, here." His speech was still delayed, speaking in broken sentences most of the time. It was the result of playing alone back in his home and she did her best to hide her frustrations for his grandmother in front of him.

Instead, she giggled softly and placed Rico within her arms, bringing him to the living room. "No, no. It's a duck," she'd always say but the kid seemed to be fixated on whatever he called his toy.

His eyes were already glued on the flat-screen TV as the channel was switched to a colorful cartoon and she sat beside him. Cartoons were the last thing she'd watch for the rest of the day, but with the boy and at that moment, it was her favorite.

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Rico yawned after stepping out of the bath, his hair was properly dried and his body smelled of fruit. Night quickly bit the day and she was glad, the warmth was much worse in the afternoon. Nothing was more infuriating than clothes sticking to skin and a throat as dry as a desert.

The July heat was just beginning, but it was time to surrender for the night.

She put the boy into bed, made sure there were no monsters lurking about the closet beside him, and left the night light on for him as his toy duck was no longer enough to accompany him in his sleep.

" _No_ ," his eyes went round when the door to his room was about to be closed.

"Sorry," she said, not shutting the door completely. The sliver of light from the hallway was added to the kid's source of comfort.

She smiled to him as he began to close his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

The very moment Rico was cradled in her arms as a baby, his tiny fingers wrapping on hers as if he'd never let go, and muttering 'Nana' as his first word, she knew she loved him instantly. She had always wanted to be a mother after all, but certain circumstances delayed that role for her, and not that she was rushing, time was still plenty. Nonetheless, she was glad the boy was there to somehow fill a void in heart and warm it with sweet smiles and hugs.

Before going to bed, she went downstairs to watch some late night shows and throwing herself on the couch, she felt something on her back. Reaching for the thing, she found it was some kids' magazine.

It was that time of the month where toys were percents off to their actual price and called it on sale, _businessmen's tactic_ , she'd say. She couldn't forget.

With a bit of courage, she turned the shiny pages to the toy section — she shut her eyes first, then flickered one open to peep and she flinched at the amount of red circles on it.

Her nephew was spoiled, she knew that too and it was her fault, she couldn't help but pour the entirety of her world, both financially and not, to someone who was not even her son. The boy was her cornerstone.

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The TV blared with music and annoying sound effects as midnight struck, her head already swaying from side-to-side looking for a pillow to lay on. But, as she was in the middle of sloppily landing on the couch, a powerful sound of a crash abruptly intruded like profanity to her ears.

It came from upstairs.

Her hands and feet went cold despite the now heavy perspiration on her skin, her lips trembled like a leaf, and her heart felt like it popped out of its rib cage as she stood and faced the ceiling in disbelief. She could tell she was already white when she sprinted upstairs, not caring for the rise of the steps — she tripped twice for it — she continued to run regardless of the blood dripping from her knee.

She stopped at the far end of the hallway, in front of Rico's room, because there was a voice of a man on the other end. Then there was silence for a brief second, her heartbeat got loud enough to be heard the more she was tormented by the unknown in front of her, and her insides were reduced to a mush of anxiety. She swallowed, the brightness from the night light flickered and dimmed despite being new, as her hand wrapped itself on the knob of the barely closed door, and she twisted it carefully.

What unraveled before her was the source of the voice. A tall figure in the middle of the room, standing and observing her like a prey with his ablaze crimson stare. She didn't dare take another step while she momentarily reflected that she should had at least taken a knife from the kitchen. _Careful_ , she reminded herself.

The dark veil of the eclipse emptied from the sky, casting its silver glow through the crumbling hole of the roof, finally illuminating the form of the strange man in red. The floor was spattered of small debris and broken furniture, and dust and smoke were settling down around him. She could only blink at the dangerous sight of him, but there was a sliver of moment when she admired his enchanting form.

This man looked as though he leaped out of an ancient painting as his keen gaze pinned her down steadfast, further restricting any movement she was about to do.

As if the slightest twitch could snap her neck.

A surge of questions infiltrated her disturbed thoughts. _Who_ on earth was this man? Why was he here? _How_ would she pay for the roof damages?

Then her muted stare fell from his intense expression then onto what — or who he held in one of his arms. And her eyes immediately swam in tears.

It was _Rico_.

He spoke condescendingly with an unknown tongue, at the same time, directing the tip of his sword to her face. It looked sharp. Real sharp. Like she was the threat he was protecting the boy from.

"Nana!" Rico brightened and bounced like a puppy, he reached for her but she still couldn't find her voice to call to him.

Looking steadily at her and giving a quick nod, as if confirming something, the mysterious man quickly kept his sword and took deliberate steps towards her. He handed the child to her, towering on both of them with an unchanging expression on his face, speaking again in an unheard-of language and she responded with incoherence.

When she was somehow able to organize a bit of her thoughts, she mustered up some strength to ask, "Who are you? I... I'm calling..." she dropped the last words of the sentence into a mutter because he gave her a quiet questionable look. His head was slightly tilting to the side. "Can you speak Japanese?"

Once again, silence.

" _Can you speak English...?_ " she asked again, assuming that he must be a foreigner, and then taking a safe step back. She felt her life span was growing shorter the more she was under his looming form.

And _again_ , he didn't say anything, but she could tell he was concentrating on the questions dropped.

Knitting his brows together, he said something to her and stopped halfway, probably figuring out that she wouldn't understand him too. And this time, she shook her head then noticed Rico listening intently to them, she squeezed him securely in her arms.

Although on his next attempt at communication, he had made on emphasize on the words, "Kouen Ren," he said with a hand on his chest.

At this moment, she only nodded her head, acknowledging that was his name, and there was one thing she became very interested in doing — make _Kouen_ leave as soon as possible. Safe and sound. So she had him follow her downstairs, but of course, she maintained at least a meter distance from him.

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He stood behind her, still watching her every unique move while she looked for her phone in one of the drawers of the living room. The noise the TV provided was not helping calm her nerves. She refused to put Rico down for even a second as her arm was begging to. Not while the weird cosplayer, to add, the one who caused her unnecessary expenses for the month, was still in her home.

" _RASENGAA—_ "

The TV behind her was strangely silenced, its remote was on the couch as she remembered, and not in her hands. There was that strange sound of something falling apart too as she finally got hold of her phone.

She turned around.

The TV — or what was left of it, was in half and dead on the carpet. Kouen stood next to it, glaring and growling something at the result he had done and with his sword already sheathed. He eyed every single thing in the room, anything that moved or produced a sound, with fury, and most of all— _confusion_. He seemed like a caged animal.

Did he not know what he just destroyed?

 _Probably_.

No one would be that shocked of an animated scream and swat it like a _fly_ with a sword. And why did he even have a real genuine sword in the first place?

It became one of those moments wherein she was no longer sure on how to react, everything was happening lightning fast for her to catch on. _Maybe_ , she thought, she still hadn't woken up from a nightmare yet. But the stinging pain on her knee was too real.

"... We'll see about getting you a car." No doubt she was a volcano about to erupt but she tamed her rage with a crooked smile. She didn't care if he wouldn't understand what she said. She didn't have the time for guessing games and the right amount of patience to deal with the guy.

"Down, down," Rico pestered, struggling so much that she couldn't properly dial numbers. Worried that he might fall off of her arm, she placed him down and he immediately ran to Kouen happily. He likes him...? She shook her head off the unnecessary and focused on the vital task at hand, while at the same, slipping a glimpse on Rico who sat with the man on the couch while she waited for an available driver to pick up.

Her heart became happy too when someone finally picked up on the other end, "Hello... I have a man here. I believe *Akiba would want him back." While she elaborated her address, she sneaked a look at the two again. Kouen showed no signs of hostility towards them, fortunately. He just seemed to attack objects he was not familiar with.

Rico was shoving his precious toys at the grown man's lap who now wore a calm analytic expression with the colorful objects he was seeing. Her nephew had always been a shy one, he didn't like other people. But he liked her and he liked _him_. He was laughing and continuing to show off his stuff to the stranger of the house, he was having fun with someone who was _not_ her.

She hung up.

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Denying hospitality to a guest, no matter the trouble they caused, was just _not_ her.

Only now she blamed that nature of hers.

She walked the 'guest' to the bathroom after a prepared midnight meal for him. The air inside smelled of fresh fruit and soap, but now wasn't the time to appreciate the fragrance. He stood next to her, sweat moistening his layers of clothes, that now hugged the muscles hidden underneath. She thought he'd reek like a wet gym rat but he didn't, his scent was what she could only describe as a mix between wine and freshly chopped wood, or something else... It wasn't unpleasant, at least.

And she had a plan. She extended her hospitality and provided Kouen a chance to stay for the night, out of love and respect for her nephew's odd wishes. Sunrise was hours away, fortunately. That was it.

 _He's done enough damage_. She thought bitterly.

They stood quietly for moments. She was thinking, as her bare feet absorbed the cold of the tiled floors underneath. If he didn't know what were electronics he shouldn't attack was, surely, he'd know what a bathroom was, at least. Perhaps?

 _Or not..._

She showed him her set of shampoo, body wash, and soap. He just raised a brow and stared at her as if he'd touch none of it.

Unless... He wanted a demonstration. She sighed and gathered a towel from one of the cabinets, "Your shield," she said and handed it to him. Then with her foot, she swiftly slid a small stool from under the sink and settled it in front of him. With a deep breath drawn from her lungs, she stepped forward, closer to him, with the stool the only thing that separated them.

This was a one time thing. _It better be._

Kouen watched as her hands fell on the fabric of his clothes, and he gave a look of a quiet authority she wasn't supposed to touch so easily.

"It's all right," she soothed and slowly, his shoulders lowed and relaxed. I _t's like appeasing a large dog._

One by one, she disrobed him of his clothes and gestured him to sit down, his strong and broad back faced to her. Of course, this odd scene wouldn't pass without her pondering why she was with the man who put a hole in her roof and hacked her TV in two. She guessed strange people attracted strange people too.

With that, she squeezed the fruity shampoo on his hair.

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 ***Akiba - short for Akihabara, known as a place for otakus with its collection of Japanese anime and comics, shops selling idol goods, maid cafés, and cosplay.**

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 **Thanks for reading~**


	2. Kouen Ren, Put Your Pants On

**** (c) to original owner for cover photo.**

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 **II**

 **[** _Kouen Ren, Put Your Pants On_ **]**

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Her conscience wouldn't forgive her if she were to send the redhead off to somewhere and never be heard of. So she had contacted the police, claiming that she found a lost and confused man _in_ her house. Luckily, it didn't take a while for sirens to bleat out of her home but it took some time to convince Kouen to enter the car as he was severely glaring at the officers along with the vehicle. Rico begged for the strange man to stay, but his pleas were fruitless. _He_ had to leave. That was the extent of the hospitality she had given him.

"It's all right," she soothed Kouen again, rubbing the side of his shoulder reassuringly. "They'll help you get home."

The officers provided him with questionable looks at first, like _what the hell_ was he wearing? Then they later joined her in convincing him to enter the car.

When he finally did, the door was shut locked and she waved goodbye at him as the car growled and began to move forward, away from her house. He stared back at her through the glass window then looked forward without meeting her eyes again.

He was _gone_.

Since then, she was somehow saddened by the empty look he gave her. Did he leave thinking that she was _that_ desperate into kicking him out? She mentally admitted that she did frown at him throughout the time of his short stay and her actions in front of him were often heavy with jealousy when he played with Rico. And her opinion differed too much from her nephew, Kouen got along with the boy even for a brief moment and she didn't. Did that make her the villain of all this?

She helped him, didn't she? She did the right thing.

Yet she was being punished by the shade of guilt of her feelings, and by her nephew who refused to interact with her since Kouen left.

"It wasn't me who sliced your TV," she reminded the kid who sat alone in the couch. He only pouted at her while he endured watching cartoons on a much smaller screen of a phone.

She sighed and endured as well. A sudden distance decided to exist between her and the boy, and it was a terrible echo in her heart.

The silence was deafening as she read old text messages across her nephew. Not another word was said that day.

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The tattooed woman held her head in between her hands, biting at her lips nervously. Sunlight rushed through the hole of her roof and birds were peeping and tweeting from there, trying to lift her mood with their songs.

But the paleness wouldn't abandon her face. No project arrived to her this month, which meant there was no money to wring from for all the expenses brought to her at once. Even her strained relationship with Rico downed her more.

 _How can one guy cause all of these trouble?_

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Her nephew was quiet even when he sat on the dining table with her, he didn't play with his food like he used to, nor share some of his baby food with her. He probably enjoyed Kouen's company a lot and had seen a glimpse of a father figure in him.

She didn't want to make the boy's life even more miserable, that was why she granted him all the things he would want. He already had enough unspeakable occurrence before his birth. That was why she promised his busy father, _her brother_ , to make up for all his lacking as she loved the boy too. _A bit too much._ She would give everything just for her nephew to smile.

Putting down her barely empty bowl of meal, she knelt down and Rico finally peered at her through his lashes, she called his name as gentle as she could.

"I'm sorry I had to make your playmate leave. He has to go back to his family because they'll miss him." Her hand caressed the top of his head, ruffling soft locks of hair, "Don't be sad, I'm sure you'll see other again. You're friends after all," she smiled for him and his expression, little by little, had an upturn.

But though he began approaching her again, he would always tug at her clothes and look for his playmate, being more talkative and demanding than usual.

"En, En," he'd tell her.

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The bed was large enough for two, spacious and cold, but she never slept on the middle. She tended to sleep on one side, the space beside her was always left empty, as though reserved for someone else...

She kicked off the blanket and placed an arm over her forehead. The ceiling was just a dark canvas and there her thoughts flowed endlessly, from how her day began, to how her day ended – and oh – Kouen.

 _Kouen Ren._

His face when he left was bright and clear, consuming every space in her mind. He tended to become a ray of thought even if she barely interacted with him. She thought of him even when she didn't. Like how he was doing and if he came home safely. She was worried for him even though he was just a stranger.

She scoffed at herself. It was easy to know how he was, though. _Just one call_. But she couldn't muster up the courage to dial the police again and ask about him, because that would provide her relief, and relief would lead to more curiosity.

Her hands remembered how it was like roaming his body – with soap, of course. His back was broad and hard, with no imperfections tainting his skin, and he had a heavy set of arms that were thicker than hers combined. His magnificent form would put gaudy models to shame, he could really grace magazine covers over them. She _wouldn't_ exaggerate. And when her fingertips delved into his mane of red hair, there was just softness.

Her nose remembered his strong scent and –

 _Enough about him._

In the end, he would only be a fresh memory that would fade away soon.

She finally closed her eyes as the midnight chills caressed her skin.

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A series of loud knocks on the door came in rhythm with the hiss of kettle boiling. She clicked her tongue, still groggy and grumpy without caffeine in her system.

Rubber-soled shoes made heavy steps towards the entry, she grabbed and turned the knob to see an annoying grin greeting her.

"Yo!" exclaimed Officer Kurosawa, the _clown_ , happily. Carried on his shoulders was… _Kouen_ , who lacked awareness. His head was lowered and his long fringe concealed most of his face.

Before she could voice out her questions, she gasped. Kurosawa abandoned Kouen into her arms with a smile. He was no doubt _heavier_ than he looked, her trembling knees could vouch for that.

"O-Oh… Attractive. What is _he_ doing here?" she asked with eyes flared for answers.

They moved Kouen to the couch before any discussion could start. He slept there properly. His appearance had drastic changes, though he wore the same clothes, there were dark bags under his eyes and he smelled of sweat. Quite far from his look when he left. _What_ sort of treatment did he receive from the station?

Kurosawa cleared his throat then he began with a stern look her way, "He has _no_ passport, _no_ driver's license, and _no_ citizenship connected to his name! Is _Kouen Ren_ even his real name?!"

The noise her ears sustained made her plunge her index fingers into them and she glared at the officer, "Why are _you_ yelling? As if he'll hear or understand you."

"It's more intense that way," he explained, nodding to himself. "To add, he doesn't speak any known language. What is _he_?" Kurosawa rubbed his chin with a thumb as he looked more and more confused.

"Well, he's obviously Asian," she said, arms crossed over her chest. "He probably belongs to some civilization far from modern society, or something," she shrugged. "Now the most important question of all, why bring him here?"

 _The world must had thrown a bone at Rico, he's going to be happy to see Kouen. Well, not in his condition._

"He doesn't really have a place to stay and can't be left alone," he turned his head at Kouen's sleeping form, the side of his lips twitching. "Everyone at the station are either men with daughters or single women. But don't worry, I assure you that he's not gonna jump you. Women are more likely to jump him–"

Kurosawa shrieked in horror as his feet hovered from the ground, his necktie tightened around his neck as he was lifted by her, spitting fire at him, "You meant to tell me that you're leaving him to me? Like he's some puppy?! I am _not_ babysitting a grown man!"

"C-C-Calm down! You said you're troubled about the roof repairs, right? We'll help with your finances, just take care of him! He wouldn't eat, sleep or even take a bath. He wouldn't trust us. He just goes and looks at the mountain – here – he wants to be _here_. With you, for some reason."

" _What?"_ she breathed and loosened her harsh grip on him.

"He wouldn't talk to us, really. He mentioned your name though, with a _deadly_ glare. And another one. Probably someone he knows."

"Who's the other person he mentioned?"

" _Sinbad_ ," Kurosawa rubbed his scalp and groaned, "No luck, he didn't tell us the last name. It'll take us forever to find who that is." He then reached for a folded paper in his pocket, it seemed to be a contract of some sort and he held out a pen for her, "Please, could we entrust him to you? Once we find out more of his identity and that Sinbad he mentioned, we'll swipe him away. _Immediately_. I know he caused some major trouble for you, but just this once, don't let your anger speak. I'll do anything I can to help you with this. You have my word, Ebina."

He bowed his head desperately as her thoughts ran wild.

Kurosawa tended to not take things seriously, he made too many jokes in his lifetime, over the years she knew him – that was just how he was. Yet in his uniform and hat, he was a police officer who loved to help people.

"Let me drink my coffee first," she told him, already stepping into the kitchen to fetch her cup.

"Ugh, no wonder your mood was terrible."

She sat on a cushioned ottoman with a saucer on one hand and her hot coffee on the other, "Take a seat." Kurosawa nodded and seated himself on the couch, just beside Kouen's feet. Normally, she'd sip her drink slowly but the thought of living with Kouen made her toss back the caffeine in one gulp, warming her throat instantly. She couldn't really turn down financial support when her pockets were in grave danger, but still, living with a mysterious stranger was just… "Rico would be happy, he likes him for some reason," she mentioned out of the blue. She never failed to regard the boy's joy first.

Kurosawa grinned, "Maybe he saw your potential husband?" he joked. "I see the way you look at my daughter. You want one, but first, you'll need a husband." He emphasized his ridiculous point with a wiggle of a finger.

"I'm _not_ that desperate. I only need Rico with me," she said with her eyes lowered.

The grin faded instantly and was replaced by a curl of a disappointed frown, "Don't go and wait for the worst of the worst. As harsh as it sounds, Rico is _not_ your son. Once summer ends, he's gonna leave and what will you do?"

"Wait for summer again…" she replied, not impressed by her own answer.

"That's just sad, even for you." Kurosawa was stern, which was a rare sight of him, "You're like the sad principal who needs to quit." His words caused a sharp ache in her heart because he was _right_. He always knew where to strike, where it would hurt the _most_. "Look at it this way. Keep Kouen. It will be an opportunity for you to prove to your best friend – my wife – that you are capable of having connections with people who aren't from ten years ago and is not a toddler."

 _I am not socially inept._

 _… Am I?_

She only sighed and dropped her shoulders. If she was beginning to worry someone then she was in the wrong here, that, and considering that she was being lectured by _him_ of all people.

Snatching the contract from Kurosawa, she left her signature on the paper.

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She was supposed to step out for a jog under the sun but she just couldn't tear her eyes off him as he slept a deep sleep. Kurosawa had left and Rico was still sleeping as well.

Reaching for his peaceful face, her fingers drew back stray locks of hair from his cheek. Kouen was just _beautiful,_ his facial structure was fine and had the symmetry. She was sure that women weren't the only ones who'd go after him. However, there was one thing that didn't go well with his image — his goatee. She would be lying if she didn't have the urge to shave his chin, it only made him look older.

Then unexpectedly, his forehead started to crease and his teeth gritted. He must be experiencing a terrible nightmare with his face contorted in pain.

And it must be frightening for him too to be in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people. She couldn't imagine his own hardships just by being here. _Of course he'd be confused and alert of everything._

His eyes shot wide open and there was a tight squeeze on her wrist. She winced at his sudden movements. He sat up and examined his surroundings, panicking slightly as his breaths went uneven. Then his eyes fell on her and he let her go, he calmed and set his back down on the couch, still facing her.

"You're okay, it was just a dream," she said kindly. He then slowly reached for her face with an uncertain expression, as though trying to verify if she was real through his weak touch.

His palm was calloused but warm against her cheek. "Ebina?" he asked in a raspy tone, still dazed from sleep.

She nodded and held his hand for a moment, then she returned it to his side. "I'm sorry for my nasty attitude during last time we met. I'll support you as best as I can so you can quickly adjust to Japan until you get home."

 _Why do I keep talking to someone who wouldn't understand a thing I'm saying?_

"You must be tired. Close your eyes."

And he did.

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Kurosawa had left some instructions for Kouen to cope up with his new lifestyle. She needed to show him the ropes until he could become independent, if possible. He handed her some clothes for Kouen as he refused anything from him. It was up to _her_ to dress him for the season.

So she had tossed his dirty robes onto the hamper and set the new ones on the bed. Which were a pair of pants and a black wife-beater shirt. And thankfully, he was able to bathe on his own after she taught him to use the bathroom for the first time.

 _Wait a minute…_ She paused under the doorframe, her expression went sour. _He can't wear pants without an underwear. Officer Idiot probably forgot._

She searched through one of the cabinets in the storage room for some underwear. Digging through old clothes, she began to doubt that the shirts would fit a brawny man like Kouen. The clothes belonged to her father who was only a tall lanky man. But after minutes, she got lucky enough to spot one pair of polka-dotted boxers in the drawer with most dust on.

Stretching the colorful fabric in front of her, she sighed in relief. _This can fit him, at least._

When she returned to his room, she was greeted by an explicit scene. Kouen was _out_ of the bath. There was a towel on his head and his fit muscles were exposed, demanding attention. In his hand were the pants, which his eyes were currently examining.

Her gaze trailed downward to his bare lower half and her mouth expanded in shock. He wasn't active but he was _big._ He only noticed her presence when she fired boxers into his face, running off to the hallway, screaming, "PUT YOUR PANTS ON, DAMMIT!"

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He wouldn't look at her but it had been obvious that his ears were bright red from embarrassment. And she wouldn't look at him either as her face was heated, red as well. There was no way she'd forget what she had seen, _not_ when it was too fresh in her mind.

But Kouen had to be taught to lock his door, for his own privacy. So she swallowed the awkwardness and showed him how to twist locks before dinner.

She was unsure of what kind of diet he preferred so she cooked just about anything she found in the fridge, and he ate them all. He was _that_ hungry, but he was stern in rejecting Rico's food when the boy tried to happily share.

Her bowl of rice was untouched when she watched him eat. "Here," she offered and he gave her a declining look even though he seemed to want more. She lifted her hands and shook her head, then placed her bowl next to his as she abandoned her seat at the table.

"I love you," he said to her.

She _froze_. Her heart stopped for a second.

"What did you say...?"

Then a realization hit her after moment of deep thinking, because she couldn't be fooled. She poured some juice on his glass this time and he spoke once more, "I love you."

 _I knew it._

"You're welcome," she dropped those words quickly and headed to the living room, she dialed Kurosawa's number on her phone.

The officer picked up on the call immediately, " _Hello?"_

"You do realize that I'm a single woman too and I'm likely to jump him anytime soon."

 _"No, I know you wouldn't do that,"_ he replied.

"Which is why you're trying to tempt me by teaching him that _I love you_ means _thank you_? And by not giving him boxers?"

She heard laughter on the other end and she twitched in irritation. He was only confident because he _knew_ he was safe from her rage, " _Oh hoh, so that's temptation for you? Boxers...? What about boxers?"_

"Never mind. I don't know what you're trying to do here, but just don't. Don't try to dirty my relationship with him."

" _All right, all right. No more putting dirty things in your head. But he'll be a convenient companion, yes? You live with a kid in the middle of nowhere. Get a dog at least_."

"Enough lecturing, I agreed to take care of him already," there was a frown on her tone.

" _Yeah, you bathed him too so might as well go all the way for Papa Kouen_."

She blinked twice at what he said, "What did you just call him?"

" _Papa Kouen? Everyone here at the station calls him that, the women especially_."

"So, what else did you teach him?"

" _D-Don't hit me please_." Kurosawa's voice trembled.

"Oh, I won't be the one hitting you. _Papa Kouen_ will do that for me once he learns what you taught him actually means."

" _No! Do you have any idea how buff he is?!"_

"I know very well. I bathed him, _remember_?" she smirked at her cleverness as she dropped the call. "Don't dig your own grave next time."

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The blonde tip-toed on her high heels as she stood at the entry steps with pouted red lips that glossed under the light. Perfume was her aroma and sensuality was her makeup. "I didn't think you'd call my office just for a lipstick."

"You left it, so I'm returning it," she said to her as dry as she could. She held out the said item and the blonde gracefully took it from her hand with a foxy smile.

"How thoughtful of you. But you forgot to tell me your name. You didn't talk much when _focused_."

"Ebina," she told her.

"... Mine," said a deep voice that startled both women, the tattooed one especially. As Kouen's hand was on her waist with a passionless look across his face.

"Does that make me your mistress?" the blonde asked.

"He's not my husband. I told you, it's not happening again."

The blonde only simpered, saying nothing more and just drove away with her car.

Turning her head back to Kouen, she returned his hand to him, "Right, let's see what else Kurosawa taught you."

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 **Thank you for reading~**


	3. The Woman with a Flower Tattoo

**** (c) to original owner for cover photo.**

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 **III**

 **[** _The Woman with a Flower Tattoo_ **]**

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It was that _bastard's_ fault.

None of this predicament would happen if not for _him_.

He knew well enough to guard himself around that man, though he had only heard whispers of his tacky charms and cunning ruling. He considered him a _rival_ from afar. But as a king he was, he was a formidable ally at the time during a war in the sky. The Medium had gone aggressive, so the prince had mentally lifted a white flag and allowed the king to arrive at his side. No words were uttered, the bastard only dropped a smug smirk as he had cast his Extreme Magic along with him.

But then...

A portal, a magical and _dangerous_ gateway, had swirled under their feet.

He was able to avoid getting hauled into the devouring void, _but_ was halted when there was a squeeze on his scaled wrist. He turned his head and saw the king with horror in his eyes, half of his body was swallowed and the mouth of the portal did not stop there.

With all his strength, he pried the infuriating grip off of him. He would not have himself be taken as well. As such, he yelled, struggled, and growled as many insults he could think of, but it had been vain.

He too had been _stolen_.

Though, he gave himself a pat on the back when he crashed his fist into the bastard's jaw for taking him along to oblivion.

The scenery became an obscured blur and colors spun, the king was nowhere to be seen and he vowed to break his face the next time he would see him. _If_ next time existed.

However, it was not oblivion he reached. _Or not yet._

Instead it was a pitch-black canopy dotted by myriad of stars. He was about a cloudless and serene heavens, and there he witnessed a grand vision of a penumbra masking the moon. Only then he had felt small and inferior under its ethereal form.

Cold air began to rush against his body as the dark skies grew farther from him.

He was _falling_.

He was falling before his heart could have time to flutter in disquiet. Every nerve and muscle in him started to knot, not because he would fall to his end, but because of the concept of a boundless fall that may meet him. The unknowns were truly daunting.

As the dread touched the deepest parts of his mind, his hair grew short and crimson as it was before. The scales on his body dissolved into naught and was replaced by his robes. His djinn equip was fully lost as he plummeted further down.

Then there was pain that billowed into his bones.

The night sky through the hole he carved above was the only reminder that he was still alive, as he descended upon objects that pricked his back. His heart stopped its violent tremors in his chest, _at least_ he stopped falling.

And that was how he had met a boy and a peculiar woman.

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Kouen approached the large glass window and let his eye wander about the unfamiliar landscape laid out for him. He found that he was in a place of mountainous character and it did not take him long to understand that he was indeed lost in a different world. He was _not_ dreaming. There he saw a still and peaceful realm beyond the valleys and hills blanketed by moonlight. No villages were burned, no lives being taken, no wars, just tranquility that sat on the far lands.

 _Who rules such a world?_ He thought, and how would he return to _his?_

Wherever he was, the weather must also _not_ to be underestimated. The heat was a gasp from hell on his skin, _insufferable_ to the extreme, saturating his clothes instantly.

He turned when he heard footsteps approach him. The woman stood, staring up to him with bedroom eyes that could attract anything that breathed. Thin lips unfastened then pursed into a line with clear hesitation to speak to him. She wore _very_ little and less clothes, which were might as well be undergarments. Most of her pallid skin was exposed to him, glistened by beads of sweat from the wave of warmth. He swore he saw more than he should have through the thin layer fabric. He corrected his focus as it was not on the right places, returning to her face and further studying her.

Their gazes locked for a moment and he stared into one of the hundreds of empty souls he came across. It would seem that invisible strings were attached to her limbs, bringing her into motion.

The bright flowered mark on her arm was demanding to be noticed. It was beautifully detailed, as if it were real and blooming along her skin. Women weren't likely to have ones as big as hers, let alone have one but he thought it suited her somehow. Where he came from, it was a stamp of promiscuity and rebellious nature. Looking more into the design, he was certain that he recognized uneven disfigured skin cunningly hidden underneath the petals, though he had resisted to confirm his thoughts.

She referred to herself as _Ebina_.

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Rico was the little boy's name and he was probably her son, the one that breathed some life into her. That was enough reason to not create any sort of close contact with Ebina and not that he would plan to, as she _may_ belong to another man, he would not be surprised if she actually was. He didn't know what food she served to him as he had been too famished to even think, but her cooking enchanted his palate and as the saying went — the key to a man's heart was through his appetite.

Looking at the child, he saw what set him and Ebina apart. Physically, it was the boy's hair. It had the hue of mahogany and was swept in many directions. Large eyes framed by lashes flickered up to him, the boy presented his toy duck, which was repeatedly called 'Chicken'. Kouen received a bright smile and he could not help but let Rico climb onto his lap. But then his goatee was noticed. The boy tugged at it and laughed.

He was the sweetest child he met and he had never met many children aside from his brothers and legion of sisters when they were little. Koumei was a sleepy child, Kouha was a vicious one, and Hakuryuu was a distant _wary_ whelp. Not a sliver of docility on any of them. His sisters were, well, he'd just say that he had earned far more respect than affections from them. Nonetheless, he loved his siblings with all his heart.

It made him wonder if the experience with the boy was akin to having a son of his own.

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He smelled of citrus all over. His hair, his skin. _Everywhere_. He could not complain as he was assisted with his hygiene but still, his brothers would laugh if they caught a glimpse of his fruity scent.

 _What is up with that woman and fruits?_

Most women he met fell in love with his face — _his body_ _—_ those were qualities of his they sought to see with their enticed eyes and touch with their painted lips. And when they did, their long pristine nails would sculpt red marks on his skin, delving deeper into his flesh as they urged him on with delighted moans for high pleasure.

But Ebina was different, she was likely the traitor to his expectations.

He would be lying to himself if he did not think of _other things_ when she relieved him of his drenched clothes and assume she would seduce him into bed with her, but any man would think that way. It was just how their intuition worked when alone with a woman such as herself. It was a good thing he did not let impure thoughts get the better of him as her objective was to _bathe_ him. Should he had known that, then he would not have let her trouble herself with undressing him.

Still, Kouen appreciated that part of her _._ Ebina did not hold any unchaste motives towards him. She did not look at physical appearances, she looked at his amiss condition and lent a hand. He was not supposed to be where he was, he had broken her belongings, he understood nothing of what she tried to say to him, and _yet_ she helped him. Ebina did not refuse hospitality to someone like him and though she appeared indifferent, she provided nothing but aid to him.

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Ebina encouraged him to enter a strange-looking white carriage with four wheels. Upon closer observation, it seemed alive as it had glowing _eyes_ on front and it puffed smoke from behind. But there were people inside, their stares wide at him. Whatever the thing was, he entered. The idea of leaving Ebina wasn't exactly appealing, he needed to satisfy his debts with her for all the help he received.

She gently grazed the side of his arm with her cold touch and he examined her baffling expression, she had said something to him with a soft voice.

He'd go with the new faces smiling to him if he had to, if it was a part of her support. But trusting them was a whole different thing.

He met her eyes once more. The gaze she had reflected something more than a farewell, but he could not decipher it in words and staring further led to an ache in his chest, so he was first to break away. Such pain had never existed before, it was a wound that may continue to grow deep into him. And he wouldn't know what to do once it festered.

He was brought far away from her and returning home became a distant wish as well.

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"Kurosawa!" the grinning man chanted then shook his head when Kouen repeated his name with a lifted brow. "Kuro!" his thumb was at himself. He was the first man to greet him in his arrival to a rather colder but noisy and busy environment. He donned a white and black attire, his untamed curled locks of hair was kept under a hat. Meeting this jester's grin was a constant reminder of someone that made his blood boil.

The prince was ushered to stay in a small white room without windows, only two chairs and a table were rooted in it.

Kuro offered an abundance of necessities, but Kouen couldn't bring himself to place some trust into him and the others that crowded him. Women especially, they were of much easy virtue.

Then Kuro would teach him words — the basic pleasantries and greetings — with _bright_ and colorful illustrations that tended to be more horrible than the last, it was as painful to look at as it was to interpret. _Who draws a blue sun? Is he trying to blind me with ugly drawings?_

Art was obviously not his strong suit.

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Kuro would always talk to him whenever he was not scolded by others, and provide gestures with weird faces. Kouen would only turn away, his eyes showing clear disinterest. It was getting annoying and he was a man who would only listen to himself should his mood be unfavorable.

Then Kuro tried to pry his patience by flicking his nose, an action people who yearned to live for another day wouldn't do.

" _What the hell are you doing?"_ The prince snapped, glaring knives. The man across him stood quickly, waving a black box-shaped item in his hand, he grinned as if he won something.

He ran outside, shutting the door behind him.

 _His brain must not be in his skull._

The next day wasn't entirely different from the previous ones. Kouen could only sigh, the days were brought to waste the longer he stayed with Kuro and his mood barely had an upturn. Lacking knowledge of this world was like arriving to battle without armor.

"Ebina," Kouen finally said to Kuro, his shoulders lowed as he would rather be returned to her… Then he mentioned another, " _Sinbad_."

The bastard's name flowed odiously from his tongue and the filthy taste of the sound made him to want to wash his mouth. He was a man that was needed to be hunted down, the _center_ of all the blame. However, standing alone in a world brimmed with strangers and strange technology was not an ideal plan. The dimwitted king was the last person, _again_ , he would like ally to with but he was still the only person he could rely on. Also, the only person he instantly disliked on a brief _first_ meeting.

Kuro said nothing and just smiled, only writing in silence across him.

His lids began to drop.

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His dream was cruel.

He stood in the world he belonged. But something was _not_ right.

The world — his _home_ _—_ was demeaned into ashes... and his loved ones became _smoke_ in his hands as he tried to grasp them with all his might. Their ending screams was an eternal requiem to his ears.

What he obtained was a crumbling heart in his chest and a crown on his head.

Gyokuen was there approaching him with light steps, the ends of her smile stretched to her ears. He blinked and her breath was at the shell of his ear, her body pressed onto his back. Long fingertips were tendrils of a parasitic vine, crawling and holding his shoulders still.

" _H_ _ow does it feel..._ " she began, there was a heinous grin on her voice, " _…_ _to be King of the Ashes?_ "

He did not want _any_ of this.

All vanished into a flash of white and he sat up all too quickly, blinking a couple of times for his vision to adjust. As he scanned his surroundings, his hand held a pulse of someone else. It became as fast and loud as his, he turned his head to the side, his breathing spent. Ebina was there, the pulse he felt belonged to her. She looked at him with worry tainting her eyes, but he had to know if she was no part of a dream, that she would _not_ vanish.

His touch reached for her face, she was warm and she did not disappear. She possessed his hand with solemn words sent for him. His heart lulled and he closed his eyes again.

He was returned to her.

However, since then he would feel the ghost of the vixen's hands clawed on his shoulders.

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It became apparent that Ebina was a woman who shouldn't be greeted with a jest on mornings.

Through the curtains, he saw her leave with quick steps and there Kuro had spoken to her of something while walking backwards from _her_ , still with that plastered grin on his face.

And she went red.

Ebina pushed him down on the grass and worked on undoing his trousers. The prince could only lift a curious brow at the sight of them struggling with each other. _Does copulation take place outdoors in this world?_

Then another thought was lit in his mind. Perhaps, Kuro was her lover? Either way, he would not like to witness — _n_ _o_ _—_ what she was doing was entirely different from what he assumed. Kuro was laughing but his eyes were absolutely _terrified_.

When she was able to effectively pull his trousers off his legs, a curve of a sinister smirk was seen on the side of her face.

She threw the captured trousers onto a tree, out of reach.

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His magoi showed no signs of replenishing, in fact, it was deteriorating each day and he was only left with a _minuscule_ amount. The metal vessels in his possession did not respond to him as well.

Magic was disconnected from this world, the rukh did not flutter anywhere at all. While those truths had finally become clear, home contained his thoughts – his family as he was missing them. _So much._ Could he really return to them?

Though it was likely far-fetched, considering he barely had the means, he would like to be brought back to his world. He would like to know of the battle he was taken from and he would like to know of his family that were _in_ that battle, he worried for them greatly.

There came a knock on his ajar door and he quickly turned, his previous thoughts faded when fingertips wrapped on his wrist.

"Handsome!" Ebina called, pulling him into a run downstairs. He corrected her before that it was not his name, but she seemed to brush it off each time. And he noticed that she no longer dressed skimpily.

A rare expression had crossed her face – a _smile_. She had never shown much emotion to him over the days of his stay so he found himself staring at how happy she looked. He supposed the smile was more suitable than her usual blank visage.

He felt a squeeze on his legs as soon as they came down, Rico looked up to him with a smile and he knelt down to meet his level.

Rico handed his drawing and he kept pointing at the tall red character holding hands with the slimmer dark one on the paper, which Kouen assumed was him and Ebina was the other. There was a sun in between clouds at the corner of the paper, at the bottom were multiple thick lines in green, probably grass. It wasn't the best he had seen, but he did not expect to value a small thing he would usually accept out of tact.

Kouen smiled as well and patted the boy on the head.

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"Ohh. Magazine," Ebina pointed at the book with shiny pages, which he had been browsing after breaking the fast. The pages held sceneries that dwelled in the world. He imprinted the enigmatic architecture in his mind, he wasn't certain why most were laced by bright lights with sorts of colors and were _high_ , enough to stretch through skies. They weren't dungeons, he thought.

The odd world he fell into had him curious, _fascinated_. He yearned to know how it functioned, its culture and histories, and the _rulers_. There was just no end to the new things he could learn.

"Pen," Ebina added, lifting the writing utensil off the table. He repeated every word, remembering them with his tongue. She leaned down, her hair was a dark curtain falling on her tattooed shoulder and she took a seat next to him. Most mornings she dedicated were her teaching him new words.

But at the dead of the night, she would be different.

Through the ease between the books, he would catch of a glimpse of women that arrived occasionally as he lost track of time. They wouldn't notice him behind the shelf scanning magazines. And to think he had pondered which man Ebina belonged to.

Some of the women seemed younger or older than her, but no one returned for a second time, and they all heeded the tattoo on her arm. Ebina would not let them touch her mark, however.

Then he would hear… soft thuds, clothes dropping, and footsteps up the stairs.

When the sounds fade and the quiet returned, he would flip to the next page.

One night was particularly noisy and the loud thud got him lifting his head from the magazine he was busied with. It was just a moment. There was another woman and Ebina was standing by the front door, smirk on her lips.

Looking at those eyes of hers, he was able to clearly see _what_ resided in them — a dangerous and broken soul that sought thrill in the wrong things.

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Another night he saw Ebina on the floor, eyes drowned in tears. He wasn't sure if he should approach her or just turn to the next page of the book.

He decided to approach her.

She winced at his sudden presence when he knelt down beside her, she didn't try to push him away as his hand was on the side of her arm. And there he confirmed it – a scar about the size of his palm. _What happened to her?_

 _Shit._ What would he say? Should he say _anything_ at all?

He knew far too little about her, he only had her expressions, body gestures, and her midnight _activities_ to discern from. She was a blank book to him. But he just felt the need to say something so he tried to remember what Kuro taught him. _Just say it._

The moment he said it, she began to burst in laughter. Perhaps it was a joke? If it was then he should not have said it. At some point of her laughter, she mentioned Kuro's name through gritted teeth. For what reason, he wouldn't know.

She smiled at him. There was sadness.

Ebina then kissed him on the cheek, muttering, "I love you."

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Lava seemed to flow on her long tresses, that he could see. The woman had apparently returned _twice_ , which was a rare thing with Ebina.

They shared no intimacy more than a single embrace by the door and hushed conversations. "Kaia…" he heard Ebina say to the other woman in red.

The following nights had quieted down, but his cheek tingled as if _her_ lips still lingered there.

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Wool slithered by his side and the mattress sunk under the additional weight on his hips. He felt soft hair fall on his face and wisps of warmth against his lips. "Kouen..." he heard a womanly mutter, toned with hunger.

He lifted his lids, all drowse gone instantly at who sat atop him, "Ebina?" She had never called him by his name before and had never entered his room when he was asleep.

She said nothing, only moving herself against him with her mouth parted, the tip of her tongue darted out and licked at her bottom lip. He frowned and held her hips still, it was _not_ right. He heard laughter, " _It's quite fun to tease you."_

He looked into a different set of eyes and the voice did not belong to Ebina, " _You..."_

" _You're doing well, my beloved son. So, how do you like my vessel in this world? Pretty, isn't she?_ "

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 **Question: What are your thoughts on Kouen having a body tattoo? Just wanna know your opinion :3**

 **Before anyone flips out and be like "the romance is too fast" or "on the third chap and she confessed alrdy?" on Ebina saying "I love you" to Kouen, just wanna clear that she only said so he would understand that she was** ** _thanking_** **him. Remember, "I love you" means "thank you" to Kouen cuz of Kurosawa lol**

 **Let me know how well I did with Kouen's POV, did it feel right or wrong?**

 **Also if you have questions, don't hesitate to ask. :)**

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 **Thank you for reading~**


	4. I'm Sorry

Hello everyone!

I know it's been a while since my last update on this so I'd like to finally explain what had happened and what's going to happen to this story.

As a lot of had been happening in my life, which does not put me in shape for writing, I sadly say that I would no longer continue this story. Magi is still an anime I love and the fandom is wonderful. I'm honored to have contributed a bit of my imagination here. I don't want to be too dramatic so I will only say that my life has taken lots of unhappy twists and turns, so I'd like to focus on recovering first and give up writing.

... Thank you for reading my story/stories! You guys had been wonderful and your words had touched my heart.

That's all.

Farewell.


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